


Vampires Will Never Hurt You

by saltandrockets



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Attempted Seduction, M/M, Rey and Hux are siblings, Vampire Hunters, enemies to enemies with benefits, vampires dig redheads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 01:42:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16337321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandrockets/pseuds/saltandrockets
Summary: Armitage hates being out in the field. He prefers to work behind the scenes—gathering information, crafting stakes and other weapons. But when conventional vampire-slaying methods fail, his only option is to play the honey pot.Turns out, vampires dig redheads.





	Vampires Will Never Hurt You

**Author's Note:**

> written for [birthday anon](http://saltandrockets.tumblr.com/post/179056863100/its-my-birthday-im-treating-myself-to-ur-fics) (happy belated birthday! I hope you like this story) and inspired by a prompt from [bigkyluxenergy on twitter](https://twitter.com/bigkyluxenergy/status/1051696409030926336).
> 
> I was [feeling nostalgic](https://youtu.be/BOJZrRCNRsg) when I came up with the title.
> 
> happy early Halloween!

If he didn’t know better, Armitage Hux almost could’ve mistaken Kylo Ren for one of the living.

There was a reason why crowded bars made for a good hunting ground, aside from the obvious. The low light hid the waxy sheen of Ren’s bloodless skin. The mingled scents of sweat and alcohol confused Armitage’s senses, as did the dull roar that surrounded them.

All of it distracted from the simple fact that Ren breathed only by conscious effort, rather than instinct, and he had no pulse. No matter how close he got, Armitage couldn’t see his reflection Ren’s dark eyes.

“That’s some scar,” Armitage commented after a while. All the usual flirtations had been exchanged, and they both knew where this was headed.

The scar bisected Ren’s face. Newly healed, the skin was pink and shiny, tight-looking, probably itchy. At a glance, Ren looked like someone had sliced him across the face with a laser sword, some fantastical weapon that instantly cauterized the wound. Ren was lucky that he didn’t lose the eye.

Actually, Armitage supposed, maybe he did lose the eye and it grew back. That was certainly possible. Vampires could heal from almost anything, given adequate nutrition, but it took time. Wounds dealt by silvered or blessed weapons tended to scar badly, like old burns.

Ren’s expression twitched, stretching the scar in a way that looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, well, you should see the other guy,” he said.

Armitage hummed, pretending not to know that “the other guy” in this scenario was his half-sister Rey. She was all of five-foot seven and had walked away mostly unscathed, spitting mad that she hadn’t managed to slay Kylo Ren, the terror of Republic City.

That was why Armitage was here tonight: to finish the job for her.

He wouldn’t have done it for anyone but his little sister. Armitage hated being out in the field. He preferred to work behind the scenes, following up on anonymous tips and chasing rumors, crafting stakes and other weapons for Rey’s use. She was much better at the whole slayer thing—athletic and all that.

But occasionally, Rey encountered a vampire who did not succumb to her techniques. In those cases, she roped Armitage into taking a more hands-on role.

Literally. Somehow, Rey’s plans always involved using Armitage as a honey pot. Blood bag. Whatever. His job was to get close enough to the vampire to stake it, by whatever means necessary.

Rey claimed that vampires were naturally attracted to red hair—it reminded them of the sunrise, or something stupid like that, and drew them almost helplessly, like moths to a zapper. Armitage was pretty sure she made that up. But, annoyingly, he’d yet to encounter a vampire who didn’t take the bait.

Kylo Ren certainly seemed interested so far. Armitage had loitered by the bar for barely ten minutes before the vampire materialized and bought him a drink.

He’d recognized Ren immediately, though they’d never met before. The scar’s placement matched the wound Rey had described. Beyond that, he had the strange, uncanny stillness that Armitage had come to associate with the undead.

Before long, they’d ensconced themselves in a booth in a shadowy corner of the bar. They sat on the same side, trading looks, sliding closer together across the cracked plastic seat, ostensibly to hear each other better over the music and laughter. Ren’s eyes kept flickering from Armitage’s mouth, to his throat, to his hands: any exposed skin. There was a hunger in his gaze that Armitage recognized.

He was handsome, Armitage thought, for a vampire. Usually the knowledge that someone was undead was enough to turn Armitage off, but there was something interesting about Ren’s face, something that made it easy to keep looking.

Rey hadn’t warned him about that—but, then again, she probably hadn’t noticed. Lately she had eyes only for Finn, the former blood bag who’d helped Poe escape that coven in Ohio. What a mess that was.

Armitage reached for his glass, turning his wrist enough to show the tangle of blue veins visible through the pale, delicate skin. He took a drink, swallowing slowly, feeling his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. Ren’s eyes on him were dark and bottomless.

A few hours from now, Armitage and Rey would chop Ren’s body into little pieces and then scatter them along the interstate as they drove to the next city and the next target. Ren’s body would turn to ash at sunrise, blowing away on the wind, and nobody would be the wiser.

The thought made Armitage smile as he sipped his drink, which Ren seemed to take for fliration.

“What are you thinking about?” There was a soft urgency in Ren’s voice. He leaned a little closer, brushing his fingers across the pulse point at Armitage’s wrist.

Armitage shivered at his touch, though Ren’s hands weren’t that cold: room temperature, probably. He was a little disquieted by his body’s response, unsure of where it came from. He needed to focus.

“I was thinking it’s a little loud in here,” he said, looking up at Ren through his eyelashes. He saw somebody do that in a movie once, when he was a teenager, and had been using the move ever since, to great success. “Why don’t we go somewhere more private, and you can tell me how you got that scar?”

Ren’s smile was like a blade unfolding.

 

***

 

Half an hour later, Armitage stepped into the vampire’s lair. Well, his apartment. Same thing.

It was cleaner and tidier than Armitage had expected. There was a sofa and a coffee table, but not much else to indicate that someone really lived here. It was a place to sleep and lay low, nothing more than that. Some kind of ornamental sword was mounted on the wall above the TV. Blackout curtains covered the windows.

Now that they were alone, there was little need for pretense or flirtation. They both knew why they were here. Armitage joined Ren on the sofa, let himself be pulled close, hoping that the vampire would interpret his rising pulse as simple anticipation.

After a couple of hours in a packed bar, most people would smell of sweat. But Ren smelled of nothing but smoke and alcohol, the mingled scents clinging to his clothes. There was no sheen of sweat across his brow or in the hollow of his throat. He didn’t have those kinds of bodily functions. It was unnatural, another clue Armitage had learned to noticed over the years.

Armitage’s phone buzzed in his pocket: Rey had texted him. He ignored it, but a minute later, the phone vibrated again.

Ren gave him a look. He could probably feel the buzz. “Got somebody waiting?”

It must be past midnight, Armitage realized, the agreed-upon check-in time. If the job wasn’t done by then, Armitage had planned to slip into the bathroom and let Rey know he was alive. But the time got away from him, and now he was in the middle of a rather delicate operation. He couldn’t afford to lose his chance.

Armitage pulled out his phone just long enough to silence it, then shoved it back into his pocket. “My sister, probably,” he said carelessly. “You know how it is.”

“Not really,” Ren said.

“Your relatives aren’t incredibly needy?”

“I don’t have much in the way of relatives anymore.” Ren was studying him, head tilted slightly. His eyes were dark and not reflective; they seemed to suck in the light. Armitage wondered what he saw. “What if your sister needs you?”

Armitage hummed. “She’s a big girl. She can take care of herself,” he said truthfully. “Besides, I’m a little busy right now.”

That made Ren grin. “You’re about to be,” he said, and kissed Armitage.

The game didn’t usually get this far. Armitage rarely had to kiss his targets—most of the time, he staked them before things escalated to that point—which was a good thing, because the undead repulsed him.

But Ren’s mouth was softer and warmer than Armitage would’ve expected, almost like one of the living. His lips moved with agonizing slowness. Armitage leaned into the kiss, letting Ren coax his mouth open and card a hand through his hair, scratching lightly at the short hairs at the nape of his neck. The things he did for the cause…

Time floated, but Armitage was hyper aware of the slightest shift of Ren’s body. After a while, he pushed himself into Ren’s lap, straddling him; this position made him feel less vulnerable, more in control. He was breathing harder, and his heart was slamming, like he was in danger. His skin prickled with heat, from his face to his chest.

Beneath him, Ren’s intentional breathing was as steady as always. He couldn’t flush with desire for the blood or for the body, but his eyes were darker as he looked up at Armitage, like black pools. He could probably feel the echo of Armitage’s heartbeat through his chest.

Armitage let Ren draw him closer. He shifted carefully, letting the object hidden in his sleeve drop into his cupped hand, as Ren kissed and nibbled along his jaw, with the slightest hint of teeth.

Suddenly, they both froze: Armitage when he felt Ren’s lips over his jugular, and Ren when he felt the sharp point of a stake digging into the soft spot under his ribs. They had both moved at the same moment, poised for the kill.

For a moment, there was no sound but Armitage’s breathing and the dull roar of blood in his ears. Ren, naturally, didn’t need to breathe. They both held perfectly still.

“If you bite me, I’ll still have time to stake you,” Armitage whispered. He knew he was fast enough to do it, in the split second before he bled out. With the last of his strength, he’d drive the stake under Ren’s ribcage, up into his putrid heart.

“And if you stake me, I’ll still have time to rip your throat out.” Ren’s lips moved against Armitage’s skin as he spoke, softly, making Armitage shudder. Blood throbbed under thin skin. “Is that what you want—both of us dying right here, together? Would that be worth it to you?”

Armitage thought suddenly of Rey, who wouldn’t know where to find him if he died here tonight. He didn’t relax his grip on the stake, but he didn’t drive it under Ren’s ribs, either. “Well,” he said, on an exhale. “It seems we’re at an impasse.”

“Looks that way,” Ren agreed. “How about a truce?”

“A truce?”

“Just a short one.” Ren’s breath was cool against Armitage’s neck. “We both back off, and take it from there.”

Slowly, cautiously, Armitage raised himself onto his knees. Ren let him, tipping his head back far enough that Armitage’s throat was no longer in his immediate reach. At the same time, Armitage removed the stake from under Ren’s ribcage, though he still gripped it defensively.

They both moved at the same instant: Armitage leaping to his feet and springing backward, toward the coffee table, and Ren performing a blurry maneuver that somehow ended with him clinging to the ceiling.

“You’re going to drop your weapon,” Ren intoned, his voice low and full of strange music. He had to twist his head all the way around to fix Armitage with a dark, burning gaze.

“That doesn’t work on me,” Armitage replied flatly. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What was this, amateur hour? “The compulsion thing. I’ve had practice.”

“Oh. Well.” Ren seemed to deflate a bit. “It usually works.”

“I mean, you’re welcome to try again, but—”

“No, no, I believe you.”

For half a minute, they just stared at each other, shifting a little in place, each waiting for someone else to make a move. In hindsight, Armitage thought, exsanguination might’ve been less uncomfortable than this, and certainly faster.

Ren cleared his throat. “So your plan was to seduce me, then kill me,” he said after a while. “Right?”

“That was the idea, yes.”

“Kind of a cliche, don’t you think?”

“You’re the one who fell for it,” Armitage said.

“What? No, I saw you coming a mile away.”

Armitage frowned. “Doubtful.”

“Slutty redhead, all alone, showing off his neck—obvious vampire bait,” Ren said. “I wasn’t reborn yesterday, you know.”

For a second, Armitage goggled at him. “Who are you calling slutty?”

Ren gave him a flat look. “Come on. Like you don’t know how you look,” he said, eyes traveling up and down Armitage’s body.

With dignity, Armitage said, “If you thought I was preparing to kill you, why did you bring me back to your place?”

“There was also a chance you were just a freak looking to get laid,” Ren admitted. “You know, a blood bag.

Armitage sputtered. “A blood bag—”

“Whatever you wanted, seemed kind of mean not to at least give you a shot at it.”

“And it was worth risking your life?”

Ren shrugged. “I was curious,” he said. “About you.”

“Me?”

“Most hunters are more athletic. Like the one who did this to my face,” Ren said, gesturing to the scar with one hand.

Armitage scowled. He’d show Ren “athletic,” just as soon as he climbed down from the ceiling.

“Do you ever get like that?” Ren went on, looking at Armitage with a strange, thoughtful expression, like the one he’d worn in the bar.

“What, hideously disfigured?” Armitage offered. “Can’t say I have.”

“No,” Ren said with a scowl. “Curious. When you know something’s bad for you, but at the same time…”

“You want to see what happens,” Armitage heard himself say, looking up at Ren. He knew what it was to hold his hand above an open flame simply because he wanted to know how long he could take it. “If it’s really as bad as you imagined.”

“Or if it’s better than you thought.”

“It might be even worse,” Armitage said. His palms were oddly sweaty all of a sudden; he adjusted his grip on the stake. “A disaster.”

“Maybe.” At last, Ren detached himself from the ceiling and drifted gracefully to the floor, rotating his head so it was facing the correct way. “Only one way to find out, though.”

When he stepped closer, his footfalls silent, Armitage stiffened. But he didn’t retreat. “I came here for a reason,” he warned.”

“I remember. How about we extend the truce a little longer, and then we can get back to killing each other?”

Armitage considered that. “Until sunrise,” he said. “After that—“

“We’ll see what happens,” Ren said. He looked Armitage up and down, and there was a different sort of hunger in his gaze. “Where were you keeping that stake, anyway?”

It so happened that Armitage had several more stakes hidden on his person, which Ran would undoubtedly discover if things progressed between them. He shrugged. “Why don’t you find out?”

Ren smiled again, with a hint of teeth: less like a knife this time and more like a crescent moon.

Then he pounced, and Armitage was ready.

 

***

 

Armitage slipped out of Ren’s apartment just as the sky was glowing a soft gray, threaded with light. Hardly anyone was on the street this early. It made him feel the only person alive.

His lips felt pleasantly bruised, and he was sure his thighs would bloom purple and blue where he’d been gripped and kissed, marks in the shape of Ren’s hands. The bruises would ache as they healed. A reminder.

Last night, by soft yellow lamplight, Armitage was fascinated to see how Ren’s bloodless body responded to him. It was like an experiment, he’d told himself, which almost justified the indulgence. He was studying his enemy. Gathering intimate knowledge.

He never tasted sweat on Ren’s skin, which was strange. Vampires didn’t flush or pant, the way living men did. But Ren trembled at Armitage’s touch, so hard it seemed like he’d shatter. Sometimes he cried out, the sound of it startlingly human, and Armitage didn’t know if it was an affectation, like his breathing, or a reflex left over from life.

Though Ren’s body was cooler than Armitage’s, he grew warm in the places where their bodies touched.

It could never happen again.

When Armitage fished his phone out of his pocket, he had a dozen missed calls and twice as many unread texts, all from the same number. Grimacing, he dialed his sister.

Rey answered on the first ring. “Armie!” Her voice was tight, almost anguished. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m fine,” Armitage said, his breath clouding in the air like smoke. “Heading to you now, in fact.”

She let out a slow breath. Now that she knew he wasn’t gravely injured or in need of rescue, some of the concern bled out of her voice, replaced by sisterly annoyance. If they were in the same place, she probably would’ve punched him in the kidney. “What the hell, Armie? You were supposed to be back before sunrise.”

“I was delayed.”

“Delayed? You had a timetable—”

“These things take as long as they take,” Armitage said irritably. “You would know that, if you ever had to be the honey pot.”

“So what?” she snapped. “Are your fingers broken? You can’t use a phone?”

“Rey—”

“I thought he’d killed you!” Rey said raggedly, which stopped Armitage cold. “When you didn’t check in, I thought something had gone wrong. I was going out of my head. I had no idea where to find you—“ Her voice hitched. She took a breath, a rush of static. “You idiot. Check in when you’re supposed to.”

“I’ll do my best,” Armitage promised, a little softer. He remembered the first and only time their mother missed her check-in. They never saw her again. It was just the two of them after that. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Well, don’t let it happen again.” Rey cleared her throat. “So what happened? Did you take care of the body, or do I need to help you clean up?”

He coughed delicately. “Actually, funny story…”

“Armie,” Rey said in a low voice. “What happened?”

“There was a... complication. He didn’t take the bait.”

“What?” Rey’s voice jumped an octave. “You were with him all night and you couldn’t seal the deal?”

“The right opportunity never presented itself,” Armitage said, which was not a complete lie.

“Then what the hell were you doing all night?”

“Building rapport. Seduction is an art, Rey, and it takes time,” he said defensively. “It’s really not as easy as I make it look.”

“Some artist. Can’t even manage a simple stab and slab,” Rey muttered. “So what happens now? He’s seen your face.”

“I think…” Armitage took a fortifying breath. The bruises Ren had sucked into his skin seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat. “I think I have to see him again.”

Rey squawked. “You can’t—it’s too dangerous. We’ll come up with another plan.”

“We already tried it your way,” he pointed out. “Now let me try mine.”

She huffed. “Where is this coming from? You hate being the honeypot, and now all of a sudden—”

“It’s not about me! According to Poe’s source, Ren is one of Snoke’s fledglings. If I can earn his trust, maybe I can get a lead on his master.”

Rey made an uncertain noise. “I don’t know…”

“How long have we been waiting for a chance like this? I can’t just let it go,” Armitage said. “Last night, before I made contact with Ren, I thought it would be simple. But now—” He caught himself.

“What?”

Armitage hesitated. “It’s different. Kylo Ren is more valuable than I realized,” he said at last. “He’s worth more to us alive than dead. For now, anyway. I need time to explore the possibilities.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?” Rey demanded. Armitage could almost see her shaking her head, and the way her nose scrunched up when she was confused. “Since when do you volunteer for field work?”

“It’s the new me,” Armitage said. “Or something.”

That made her laugh, a small relief. “Well, I hope I like the new you as much as the old one,” she said. “I guess we’ll figure it out when you get back.”

She ended the call, and Armitage took a deep breath. The air was cold and stinging. All night, he’d told himself that what transpired between him and Ren during their temporary truce could never be repeated. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

But it was also an opportunity the likes of which he’d never imagined. He hadn’t lied to Rey—if he was crafty, there was a chance he could coax valuable intelligence out of Ren. The kind of intelligence people died and killed to uncover.

For the cause, Armitage could sacrifice anything—his life, his dignity, his principles.  The thought bolstered him a little: Whatever he did, it was for the cause. Another night with Kylo Ren was worth it, if he got what he wanted out of the encounter.

Armitage hurried out into the city that was just beginning to rise. Though he was exhausted, he couldn’t rest yet. There was work to do.

Come nightfall, he needed to negotiate another truce.

**Author's Note:**

> the next time they meet:
> 
> Kylo: is that a stake in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?
> 
> Armitage: it’s… it’s a stake. I’m sorry. old habits.
> 
> \--
> 
> thank you for reading! come visit me [on tumblr](http://saltandrockets.tumblr.com/).


End file.
